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<title>i know that it’s delicate (delicate) by greeneggsandsam</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23059039">i know that it’s delicate (delicate)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeneggsandsam/pseuds/greeneggsandsam'>greeneggsandsam</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queer as Folk (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brain Damage, Canon Compliant, M/M, POV Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk), Season 3ish?, fight me about it, lets all pretend Ethan doesn’t exist :), yes the title is from a taylor swift song</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:07:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>995</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23059039</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeneggsandsam/pseuds/greeneggsandsam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“That’s what we forgot to do, Sunshine—ask a medical professional!”<br/>“And there you were putting my skull back together with duct tape.”</p><p>Or,</p><p>Justin’s hand acts up. Ben doesn’t know about the bashing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Bruckner/Michael Novotny, Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i know that it’s delicate (delicate)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i really wanted to see Ben’s reaction to finding out about Justin’s bashing, and Justin having to tell someone new about it. pls be nice to me 🥺</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>      Justin’s hand was acting up. If he used the computer it didn’t bother him too much, but he’d been drawing by hand for the past couple hours, hunched over in a booth at the diner, with Michael craning his head to look at Justin’s work upside down and talking about a new plot line, and Ben and Brian eating lunch and exchanging exasperated looks.<br/>      <em>Artists</em>.<br/>      So his hand was acting up, just a few shakes in the last half hour or so, but enough for Brian to start shooting him sharp looks. He was worried. It was sweet. Justin wished it didn’t make him so goddamn angry.<br/>      “Fuck!” His hand gave a violent shake and cramped into the claw like shape it always seemed to revert to, no matter how many hours he’d spent squeezing that stupid ball in the hospital.<br/>      Brian’s hand was on his immediately, gently massaging it and muttering, “Hey, it’s alright, it’s okay, just take a break.” Empty words—the rest of the day was shot, even on the computer, and he would have to take it easy tomorrow as well. Which Brian knew. But he would say anything in that quiet, soothing voice when he thought Justin was about to combust.<br/>      Which he wasn’t. Justin took a deep breath through his nostrils and let it out through his mouth.    It was fine. He wouldn’t let himself go to that dark, angry place where he had practically lived after the attack. He took another breath, pushed his sketch pad away, and leaned into Brian.<br/>      “I’m fine.”<br/>      “I know,” Brian replied. The tone could almost pass for casual, if he hadn’t still been holding Justin’s hand like it would break, and watching him with that sharp, scared look in his eyes. He turned his gaze to Michael and continued,       “I think that’s enough comic work for today. I can only hear so much nerd speak before it starts to cause a migraine.”<br/>      “Of course,” said Michael, ignoring the jibe in favor of looking worriedly at Justin. “I didn’t mean to, you know, push you, or-“<br/>      “It’s fine.” Justin interrupted, gently but firmly. “I’m fine,” he repeated, this time looking at Brian and gently extracting his hand from his grip.<br/>      “Does that happen often?”<br/>       Brian, Michael, and Justin turned to look at Ben, who, before he had spoken, had been temporarily forgotten.<br/>      “What?” Justin replied after a moment. He was vaguely embarrassed that Ben had seen his hand spazz out--these episodes always left him feeling raw and exposed, even more so if he wasn’t alone.<br/>      “With your hand, does it shake like that often? You might want to see a doctor, have it checked out.”<br/>      Justin stared at him for a moment, nonplussed. “A doctor,” he repeated. He supposed it made sense that Michael hadn’t told him yet--they had only been together (again) for a few weeks, and it wasn’t the sort of event that came up in casual conversation or pillow talk.<br/>      “A doctor!” Brian exclaimed, manner shifting into cold sarcasm, complete with that icy smile. “That’s what we forgot to do, Sunshine—ask a medical professional!”<br/>      “And there you were putting my skull back together with duct tape.” Justin shot back with a shaky smile. They didn’t joke about it often, but he enjoyed those rare moments when they could. “Ignore them,” Michael told Ben, who now looked confused and, from the skull comment, about disturbed. “I’ll explain later.”<br/>      “No, I’ll explain now.” Justin put in. He didn’t like the idea of Michael-of anyone- talking about the bashing when he wasn’t around. He wanted to control the story, when he could.<br/>      “When I was 17 Brian and I went to my prom together. We…...danced.” (Not that he remembered that, or, in fact, the past week or so preceding it.)       “There was this guy at my school who.......really hated me. Hated. And I guess me dancing with a guy at prom was, like, the last straw for him. He followed us out to the parking lot and bashed my head with a baseball bat. I was in a coma for two weeks, and there was some nerve damage. My hand still doesn’t work the same way.”<br/>      He spoke as matter of factly as he could, trying to keep any tremors of anger or pain out of his voice. He told it like a story that happened to someone else. It still felt that way sometimes.<br/>      “Justin, I’m so sorry, I......I didn’t know.” Ben said earnestly, brow furrowed.<br/>“It’s fine. Really.” Justin replied. A phrase he had used more in the last 10 minutes than he usually did in a week.<br/>      Ben still looked regretful, Michael looked grim, and Brian would be careful with him for the rest of the day. That stung especially. He hated when Brian was careful with him, treated him like he was made of glass. Brian was supposed to be an asshole--it’s how he expressed affection (along with anger, fear, and happiness). He resisted the urge to scream, or cry, or punch something.<br/>      Instead he turned to Brian. “We should go. Don’t you have to get back to work soon?”<br/>“I knew you were only in it for the money.” Brian replied, sliding out of the booth and wrapping an arm around Justin’s waist as soon as he was upright. He kept it there on the way out the door, holding him firmly, like he would when Justin still had trouble in crowds.<br/>When they were out of the diner Brian came to a stop, resting both hands on Justin’s waist.<br/>      “You alright?” He asked, in that carefully cultivated casual tone of his.<br/>      “Yeah…...Yeah!” Justin replied, trying to put some energy behind the word. “It’s been a while. I’ve moved past freaking out whenever my hand shakes, or someone talks about it.”<br/>      “I know.” Brian kissed him, slowly and firmly, and then pulled him towards the car. “I know. You’re alright.”</p>
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